Unspoken
by UntoldStories113
Summary: He had always supported Sulley in everything he did. He had taken the responsibility onto his shoulders and risked everything, even his own relationship, to help his best friend out of a tight spot. And Sulley had abandoned him over a human child they had just met. So why was he the one apologizing? (spoilers for both Monsters Inc and Monsters University)


**Timeline note:** Set right after Sulley leaves the cave in the Himalayas.

**Note:** Happy birthday to me... (_singing_) Just a quick note: You should know both movies very well for this or the context will be lost to you. I felt that explaining things would take away from the impact.

* * *

"And you're sure you don't want any snow cones?"

Mike could not answer immediately, as he had just managed to squash his right hand between two pieces of wood and was now busy cursing under his breath and picking a few splinters out of the throbbing appendage.

"Yes," he finally spat, getting back to work, "I'm sure!" There were a great many things he was sure about right now, actually, and that he did not want his former boss to feed him icky-looking slush was one of them.

Mr. Snowman did not seem to remember him. But that was fine with him; it was not as if he had ever been close to the guy. In a way, that was probably a bit cruel, but he thought he could be reasonably sure that, by the looks of it, the former head of Monsters Inc's mailroom seemed to be leading a fairly happy life out here, so why disturb that by digging up memories of a past long gone?

And there were more pressing matters at hand anyway. Sulley had left just a minute ago. If Mike just hurried, maybe he could catch up with the idiot. He was a lot lighter and smaller than that big oaf, after all, so maybe he would also be quicker.

What he wanted to catch up with him for, he was not sure. Maybe to punch him. Or to yell at him a little more. All that idiot seemed capable of thinking about was that stupid kid. Yeah, sure, a little abomination like that was far more important than his lifelong best friend, he could certainly understand _that_.

"They're lemon-flavored, you know!"

"Yes, I know!" Mike burst out before he could stop himself. "This is only the seventh time you've told me!"

"Is it, now?" Mr. Snowman chuckled. "My, I hadn't noticed. Hope I didn't bore you!"

He tuned the guy out. There was nothing of substance to be gained from that idiot. Even if he had had any useful wood in this place to build a proper sled from, Sulley had already taken all of it.

To leave. To leave him behind.

It had not had to come to that. Mike had never wanted him to leave, and yet had never wanted him to abandon the child either. All he had wanted had been for Sulley to say that _he_ was important as well, that it was not _just_ the kid he was worried about. Had that really been too much to ask?

In his anger, he did not consciously register that he had failed to secure the same knot several times until he managed to tie a few of his fingers together. He had had to take off the gloves – at least the ones over his hands; the other pair was firmly in place – or he would not have had the dexterity required for this kind of task, and his makeshift sled looked shaky enough as it was. Would this thing be enough to carry him all the way to the village?

"It doesn't look like the storm will be subsiding any time soon!"

Mike let out a very slow, very annoyed breath. Mr. Snowman was starting to get on his nerves. Scratch that. Mr. Snowman was _getting on his nerves_.

"But I can't see your friend! Hope he made it to the village!"

"He is _not_ – my _friend_!" Mike insisted yet again. He wondered why it had taken him this long to realize it. Maybe Sulley had only stopped being his friend today? He had certainly seemed normal yesterday morning – and then, the freaking _kid_ had happened!

The cold was biting into his skin, numbing his nerves. He would bet _anything_ that it was Randall who had picked this particular door. Randall knew damn well how much he hated the cold.

_So this is what I get for always keeping my eye on the temperature in our room to save your sorry poikilothermic hide. Thanks a lot, idiot._

This time tomorrow, he would definitely be down with a huge fever, sneezing about and feeling generally sorry for himself.

That was, if Randall had not gotten his many hands on him by then.

Not that he was not feeling sorry for himself already, of course. He knew that. But it was also not as if there was any way of getting around it, or as if he would care if there was.

Even though he was not sure what he should be feeling sorry for himself about. Sulley's betrayal? Celia's accusations? Randall's psychotic tendencies? Or maybe the fact that there seemed to be a huge conspiracy going on in their company, the company he wanted to spend his life working for?

But there was another thing which he knew for sure. He did not want anything more to do with Sulley. Or with Randall – stupid freak of a walking-talking purse, trying to friggen' _torture_ him!

It was Sul who had gotten him out of that…

But Mike shook his head, viciously. Sulley had made his choice.

What was with that machine, anyway? How creepy could you possibly get? And if he considered that Randall was planning to use a device like that on a little, innocent child… The mere thought made him shudder.

He sighed. _Sorry, kid. But I know Sul's gonna take good care of you._

He blinked when suddenly, the pair of gloves he had previously discarded was shoved in his face. Looking up, he saw Mr. Snowman smiling at him.

"You should keep these on, we don't want you losing any fingers, right? Don't worry about me, I have fur!"

Mike could not help but crack a smile at the friendliness of the gesture. "I can't work like that," he pointed out quietly.

"Then just stay here!" Mr. Snowman exclaimed, placing them on the ground next to him before spreading his arms wide. "It's the best place ever!"

With a chuckle, Mike turned back around to his project. "Can't. It's too cold for me." He thought he had read somewhere that if hot-blooded type III cyclopses like him were out in below zero temperatures for a few hours, they would die, so he needed to get out of here anyway.

Maybe his and Sulley's deaths were just what Randall and Waternoose had been hoping for.

_Randall…_

Not for the first time, the thought of his former best friend threatened to bring tears to his eyes. It was just… What had Randall been _thinking_? Not being friends with him – well, if the guy had to be a kid about it, fine. Throwing stuffed animals onto his head – okay, that had been cruel in context, but definitely in sync with his character. Constantly bullying him on the job – sticks and stones. But actually inflicting bodily harm on someone he was supposed to care about? _That_ kind of ruthlessness simply blew him away.

He had always thought that it had been the RORs who had made Randall act that way, had comforted himself with the thought that it had been some form of peer pressure. But at Monsters Inc, Randall was the _only_ one to treat him that way – everyone else seemed to be friendly with him, maybe even like him… although most of them did not like him enough to call him their friend, just enough to register him as a "good guy" and then stop thinking about him altogether.

And after all, Randall had decided to join the RORs of his very own volition, so it should have been obvious that he himself was the catalyst for all this.

And why was he thinking about Randall now?

A single tear found the way out of his eye, landing on the ground with a soft splash and freezing over almost immediately. Well, of course he would think of what had happened back then when the very same thing had happened today.

Why did all of his friends end up choosing someone else over him?

"Oh, my, you're crying! Did you hurt yourself that much?"

Mr. Snowman again. Why that guy kept up the constant stream of commentary was beyond him. Then again, maybe he was lonely. Maybe he was just enjoying the sudden company, and _that_ was nothing Mike was prepared to look down on. He knew exactly how that felt. He had just lost the one friend he had believed had truly cared about him.

"I'm fine," he claimed, careful to not let his voice break on the idiotic lie. As casually as he could, he wiped the tears from his eye. "It's just so cold. I can't stand it. Maybe I _would_ stay, you know, but I can't survive in this environment." Another lie – there was no way he would remain in this place even if it was a tropical paradise. But, hey, if it made at least one of them feel better, then maybe it was worth it.

And of course, that kind of thinking brought him back to Sulley yet again. Had he not realized that Mike had needed to hear it? Could he not have said it? _"Hey, you're important, too, and now let's go save Boo together!"_ Had it really been that hard? But, no, the only thing he _had_ said had basically been _"Yeah, well, I'm sorry, but Boo is more important!"_ or something along those lines. The only conclusion he could draw from that was that he was _not_ important to Sul if his friend was so ready to leave him behind in what was certain death for him. That he had been unimportant enough to take second place – or worse – to a _human_ that Sulley had _just_ met.

Why did this happen every time? Was it _his_ fault? Was he, for whatever reason, incapable of having friendships? Or was it really that no one cared? He knew he was nothing special, but there must be _someone_ to whom he meant something, right?

The guys. The guys had always cared about him, even when he had not yet been a good enough person to care about them. But with them, it was more adulation than anything else. He knew they did not have an accurate grasp of his character, of what he was really like, idolized him like some kind of messiah because he had been the reason they could all live their dream, and as much as he loved them, he knew it was near impossible to develop a true friendship on a foundation like that.

Another knot finally secured the stick he had been wrestling with for the past few minutes, and when he pulled at his creation tentatively, it did not fall apart.

"You're good at this!"

He heaved a sigh. _Patience, Mike, the guy has no idea how much he's annoying you._ "Thanks. I have to be, though, or I won't make it to the village."

He had to get back to a warmer climate. Where exactly was not important. Maybe the doors would not lead him back to Monsters Inc, after all, maybe he would arrive at Fear Co or Scare Ind, or someplace else entirely. But for the moment, he did not care where he found himself as long as it saved his life.

The thought gave him pause. Was it not a little selfish to not go and prevent whatever Randall and Waternoose were up to?

Then again, no one ever seemed to think of _him_, not even the people he loved, so if he did not _finally_ stop thinking of _their_ well-being all the time instead of his own, it was going to consume him. He had to draw the line at _some_ point, and this was as good a situation to do it as any. Even Celia had been angry at him for what had happened at the restaurant instead of realizing that there was no way he would do that kind of thing to her under normal circumstances.

Celia. Sweet, beautiful Celia. He was never going to see her again.

_Of course you are!_ he argued with himself. _Just pull yourself together and get this thing on the road!_

Anyway, he _had_ just stopped supporting Sul, had he not? And look where it had gotten him. Stuck in a giant fridge with only an amnesiac of questionable sanity for company.

_Smart move, Wazowski._

"I'm going," he announced, putting the gloves back on. He was not sure what made him say it. It was not as if Mr. Snowman would not _see_ him leave the place. Still, somehow, it felt nicer.

"Take care of yourself," his former boss told him immediately.

He turned around to the other, then, and knew he utterly failed at what had been supposed to be a smile. "Don't you worry, I'm tough as nails. A little snowstorm is definitely not enough to get rid of me!"

"It must be even colder out there," Mr. Snowman insisted. "And if you _and_ your friend freeze to death, there'll be no one left to take care of the mail."

Mike blinked. And blinked again. Had he heard that correctly?

Mr. Snowman was narrowing his eyes now in what appeared to be concentration. "You _are_ those newbies, aren't you? I thought you looked familiar."

"Err…" was Mike's eloquent reply, and all of a sudden, he was startled to discover the small smile that had snuck its way onto his face. If someone did bother to remember him, then maybe he was not so unimportant after all. "Newbies no more," he finally declared. "Actually, we're scarers now."

No, technically, only Sulley was a scarer. But they had always said it like that, always seen themselves as a team.

_Sulley…_

The good mood vanished as quickly as it had come. There was no "we" now, no team, no Sul to support.

But Mr. Snowman did not seem capable of picking up on his mood swings. "Congratulations!" he exclaimed. "That must have been a lot of work! Well, in that case, I understand why you want to get back to him. He must need you, right?"

Mike stared up at the other with a bitter smile. Yeah, one would think he would.

Slightly shaking his head, he grabbed his improvised vehicle and turned to face the exit. "I'm pretty sure he disagrees."

And with those words, he was off, out of the cave and down the mountain.

Immediately, he realized that Mr. Snowman had been right – being out here was _way_ worse than staying in the cave. The wall of cold hit him like a ton of bricks, and with his speed, even the tiniest snowflake became a sharp needle pricking at his skin, his eye, his everything. He had thought he had been numb before? _Now_ he knew numb.

How long had it been since Sulley had left? It could not have been more than a few minutes, maybe a quarter of an hour. Would the idiot make it in time? Would he be able to save the little girl? If both Randall _and_ Waternoose were after them now, what would they do?

Then again, why did he _care_? Could he not stop caring about people that did not care about him? How stupid could he be?

The top of his head was getting colder and colder, and he realized that the other pair of gloves must have flown off, the one he had put over his horns to protect the sensitive area around them. But it was not as if there was any way he could secure stuff like that on his body. Sometimes, albeit rarely, he really hated his anatomy.

A bump in the road almost threw the sled off balance, but he managed to even out the drift by leaning to the other side. With all the near-accidents he constantly had to deal with, he was pretty sure he could handle this.

Well, unless he happened to crash straight into a rock or something.

Had he been able to see more than a few centimeters in front of himself, then maybe he could have kept his eye out for Sulley, just in case the idiot had not made it.

…but why did he care, why did he _care_?

Now there _was_ that sort of rock he had dreaded, but another quick reaction had him avoid the thing by inches.

Well, why _did_ he care? He had never really thought about that, actually. In all honesty, he would probably have cared about _anyone_ who was friendly to him, regardless of trivial things such as character – after all, if that was not true, there probably would have been no way he could ever have ended up side by side with Randall.

Was that enough? Did he only care about others as long as they appeared to care about him? But, no, if that was the case, then he would not even be thinking about Sulley right now, would he?

Or the kid. He cared about the kid, he had to admit that to himself, and _she_ had never done anything for him, right?

"_Miiike Wazowski!"_

The thought of her little, excited voice brought a smile to his face, but he had to quickly shut his mouth again in order to not get snowflakes onto his sensitive teeth.

Suddenly, he wished he could have done something to help her. Maybe he still had that chance – one of the doors in the village might lead him back to the company, after all – but it would not do to just show up there after telling Sul in no uncertain terms that he was through with their friendship.

How they would manage afterwards was beyond him. How would they go on with their job? Would they still want to talk to each other? Would one of them move out? Maybe he should take that chance and move in with Celia, if she did not think it was too early.

Scratch that. After what had happened, maybe she did not even think she _wanted_ to move in with him any longer.

His eye was watering from the cold. He could barely see where he was going.

Yes, this might be the end of his relationship. He had been the luckiest person in the world to have an incredible woman like Celia go out with an utter nobody like him, someone constantly overshadowed by his more successful best friend, someone no one else seemed to want to be around. But she had wanted to be with him – and now she had stopped wanting that.

And Sulley had not cared about _that_ either, dammit! Or about _anything_ that had resulted from this utter mess! _He_ had been the one to pick up the little girl, after all, and Mike had done everything in his power to make sure nothing bad would come from it, risked everything he had ever cared about to make sure Sulley _and_ the kid would be okay.

And _this_ was what he got in return?

It had been hard to build up all that. Hard to let go of his dream, to find something else to strive after, to project his own ambitions onto Sulley… to develop the ability to feel _happy_ about what he had. But now, it had all fallen to pieces yet again, and this time, there was no Sul to shake him out of his misery.

Sulley, need him? He was the one who needed Sulley, even if only because almost no one else seemed to want his company.

There was another bump in the road, but it did not manage to dispense the sudden realization.

Because Sulley _did_ want his company. That bit had not changed. It could not have. After all, Sulley had asked for him to come along with him, right? Even while he kept saying how the kid was the most important thing ever, he had been talking in "we"s the entire time, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Well, if he wanted them to stick together, then why _had_ he obsessed over the kid like that instead of just _telling_ him that?

_Wait…_

But before another sudden enlightenment could properly manifest in his mind, there was a huge crash, and next thing he knew, he was flying, summersaulting through mid-air in complete helplessness. He felt the gloves on his hands slip off as well, and they were lost to the never-ending white immediately.

And then he hit something, hard, and was jolted into another direction. Another few impacts, smaller this time, and he was lying face-down in the snow, his head spinning.

The accident made him nauseous and dizzy. He knew he had to get up immediately, knew every _second_ he spent in this position was threatening his life, but both the physical and the metaphorical impact had left him completely dumb-founded. A detached part of him was completely clear-headed, and in the brilliant white, suddenly, he _understood_.

He had done the very same thing.

Just now. He had done the very same thing, but not to Sulley – he had done it to Mr. Snowman. He had felt for the guy, pitied him even, lied to make him feel better. But had he actually _voiced_ any of that? No, of course not, he had been too busy wallowing in self-pity.

Was it not the same for Sulley? Yeah, maybe leaving him behind had been extreme, but he had been preoccupied with the kid's safety, and in that kind of situation, could Mike _really_ have expected him to say something which, he seemed to feel, did not need putting into words? And when Mike had asked him those questions, had wanted to know if _he_ was not important, had that not been the one Sulley had turned around at? Had that not been what had prompted him to apologize? Because Mike _was_ important?

But there was more. Mike had accused him of disregarding their friendship over something that had just come up – and then he had proceeded to mirror the action, to sever their ties over a one-time occurrence. The only difference was that _his_ offence was _way_ worse. Sulley had neglected him because he was busy saving the kid's life – and Mike had neglected his friend because he was busy feeling hurt.

Irrationally, another smile softened his features at that last thought.

His friend. Of _course_ they were still friends, dammit! That was, if he had not just lost Sulley for good over his own petty tantrum.

"And I'm _telling_ you, mom, I saw someone sledding down the hill!"

The sudden voice made him blink, and before his mind had consciously registered the danger, his scarer's instincts had propelled him to his feet and behind a nearby corner.

Catching his breath from the sudden adrenaline rush, he realized that what his sled had crashed into had been a wooden house. Apparently, he had made it to the village.

"Honey, _look_, there's no one here!" a female voice reached him, and its definitely exasperated owner, probably the boy's mother, could not be standing more than a few meters away.

"Well, but there _was_ a crash!" This one was male. The father?

"Daddy, _look at that_, what's that?"

Closer. They were still coming closer. A sinking feeling told him that "that" must be the remains of his trusty sled. Good thing it had held out until he had reached his destination.

Chancing a quick look around the corner, he saw that three humans were gathered around the crash site, arguing about it. But he did not pay attention to their words any longer.

As silently as was possible in the thick layer of snow on the ground, he crept away from them, careful to stay as close to the wall of the house as possible. He needed to find a door, and find it quickly.

But if he did get back to his own world now, the change in temperature would be too sudden, and could kill him regardless. Back in Monstropolis, it had been about seventy degrees this morning. It was probably eighty by this time of day. Bending down on one knee, he quickly scooped up two hands full of snow to keep something cold with him, quickly forming them into balls in order not to lose most of them to the next sudden movement.

Turning around another corner, he saw that the front door was open – those three must have forgotten to close it. Sneaking in was easy, even after all those years neglecting the skill, and for a few moments, he listened for any sounds. Maybe there were grandparents in this family, or more children. But apart from the muffled voices of the three still arguing outside, he could not hear a thing.

A sudden flash of light from under a nearby and slightly opened door made him curious, and when he chanced a look into the room behind it, there was no mistaking the glow between the closet door and its frame.

In a flash, he jumped over, dove into a roll and took position in the nearest corner, immensely grateful that after everything this day had already thrown at him, luck, or rather timing, was on his side for once.

And then, the door opened, and immediately, the temperature went up by a few degrees due to heat exchange. It was Noodles entering the room, so this _was_ a door leading back to Monsters Inc. He debated with himself about whether or not to tell his colleague that the trip would be in vain. But no point – the guy would realize that for himself in a minute, and Mike would only waste time with the conversation and the inevitable questions about his being here that would follow.

How long had it been? Did he still have a chance of catching up with Sulley?

Before Noodles had a chance to close the door behind himself, Mike slipped through the frame in another quick jump, and let out a heavy sigh when he heard the soft click of the door closing behind him.

He felt the sudden heat course through his body, warming the frozen parts of him so thoroughly that he almost forgot where he had just been.

"Mike?"

When he turned around, he discovered Noodles' assistant staring at him with wide eyes. "Hey, Betty."

She seemed not to know what to say and opened her mouth once, then closed it again. "Did you just come through that door?" she finally asked, and she sounded unsure about whether or not she could believe what she had just seen.

"Hey, Wazowski!" George also called over, sounding cheerful. "There you are, barely seen you all day! What's with the snowballs?"

Staring at the items in question, Mike pushed his relief aside and remembered his purpose. Hastily, he scrambled to his feet and took off, drawing a lot of curious looks, as he had to sprint past almost the entire length of the floor to reach the exit.

No time. There was no time. Sulley was in trouble. The kid was in trouble.

Where to? Had Sulley made it back here? They were probably in that secret basement, right?

"Mike!" Jerry called over from the entrance. "Mike, what's _wrong_ with you two today?"

There was another smile on Mike's face when he sprinted past. _You two._ Now _that_ sounded good.

"Can't stay and chat!" he called over his shoulder at them all. "Gotta be somewhere else! I'm needed!"


End file.
